


Thomas & The Duke: The London Season

by causeimdifferent



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Kissing, M/M, Power Play, Romance, Sex, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-17 02:20:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1370323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/causeimdifferent/pseuds/causeimdifferent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The beginnings of the "youthful dalliance" between Thomas and the Duke.</p><p>"Thomas had a thing for spoiled shits. Those types were unhealthy - and he was well aware of it - but oh, so delicious. He could still walk away. But why should he? This was more enticing than anything he could remember in a long while. No, he wanted to stay. Let's play."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas is hot and bored until Philip arrives - who makes him hot and bothered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a ball with this, enjoy :) 
> 
> [PS: I'm a sucker for comments - we are all are ...]

**Chapter One**

 

**Thomas**

 

Sweat tickled Thomas’s back. He couldn’t remember any previous London summer that had been that hot, that uncharacteristically humid. Almost every other night a thunderstorm brushed past the city. Always just missing it, never bringing the much sought for whiff of fresh air. Thomas liked the sun, but not if he had to stand in it for hours on end constricted by a black and by now sticky livery. Yes, it was nice to work out in the open for a change and actually he’d quite welcomed the garden party on the premises of the Grantham’s stately townhouse. But now, after an eternity of carrying drinks and snacks around on trays a particularly gray kind of dread clouded up upon him. His feet were beginning to hurt, the talk was equivalent to a slow frontal lobotomy. Not that Thomas was generally averse to gossip. Only the entirely mind-numbing kind. _The weather. The newest fashion. How to redecorate the salon. Etc. etc. etc._

 

Thomas fumbled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket to discreetly wipe his brow. He wanted to put his tray down on the buffet table with a clang and just leave. Take a stroll through Hyde Park, smell the flowers, listen to the birds, lie in the grass under a tree and ogle handsome guys. The London Season was supposed to be exciting, entertaining – even for him, a mere servant. But so far he hadn’t had even a single day off because the Granthams had decided to entertain like mad for reasons entirely unbeknownst to the footman. He suspected some troubles within the family that its members needed to distract themselves from by socializing in this exaggerated manner. Maybe the Earl had had an affair …?

 

„Oh to go for a swim right now …“ he muttered to himself. „Oh yes, that would be dandy.“ The silky voice behind his right shoulder gave him a start. Thomas turned and stared directly into slightly hooded but intense green eyes. Belonging to a disconcertingly shapely gentleman of about his own age. He held Thomas’s gaze way longer than appropriate while taking one of the glasses of champagne from the footman’s tray. The man took a sip: „Why don’t we just bolt and do it.“ He winked at Thomas and turned to go. _Bastard_ , Thomas thought, noticing that his heart was pumping faster. Out of anger or because the man’s gaze had made his guts stir he couldn’t quite decide.

 

Thomas stared after the man whose casual stroll he found strangely captivating. Without warning he smoothly turned round once more to flash Thomas a grin, one of his eyebrows quizzically lifted. The footman almost forgot to keep his tray steady. His throat felt dry. He needed a glass of water. He must have perspired gallons already. No wonder he was feeling dizzy. Thomas asked Mr. Carson to be excused briefly and hurried towards the facilities. Once there Thomas peeled the sticky jacket off, suddenly feeling so itchy that he wanted scratch himself from head to toe. Instead he let his burning forehead fall against the wall, while folding up his shirt sleeves to put his forearms and hands under the cool water streaming from the tap.

 

What would happen if he just walked up to that smug chap to tell him: „I’m ready. Let’s go someplace where we can bathe naked. I didn’t bring my swimsuit.“ Thomas chuckled with a hint of desperation. He didn’t even own a swimsuit. He could barely swim, in fact. He bent down to fill his cupped hands with water to drown his face in it and drink at the same time. _I want to be free_ , Thomas thought. _As free as that bloke, to stroll around in a pretty garden and drink champagne as if I owned the world. And flirt with strange men as if there was nothing to it. I wonder who he is._

 

With a weary sigh Thomas got back into the livery jacket, the shirt clinging damply to his chest and back. _Yes, just throw this job away for a random swim with a Lord or Earl or whatever that bastard is exactly. Fine. And be back to roaming the streets without so much as a penny, forced to go with men you detest just to have a warm bed to sleep in and something to bite._ Thomas left the bathroom with a heavy heart. _Life sucks._ Thomas hated to linger over bouts of self-pity. _Find something to do, quick._ The most reliable remedy was work. Or bullying somebody. _Let’s bug William_ , he decided. _Give him a dressing-down about his greasy nose or something._ The mere idea made Thomas lighten up already. He unlocked the door and stepped out into the corridor.

 

„Oh there you are!“ For a moment Thomas forgot to breathe. That man was leaning against the wall, leisurely. One leg bent and the foot put against the whitewashed wall to leave a stain in all likelihood. „Can I help you … Mylord?“ Thomas managed. The man pushed himself off of the wall not letting Thomas out of his eyes once. „It is Your Grace“, he said and Thomas cringed on the inside. „Of course, Your …“, he corrected himself hurriedly. „ … or Philip“, the man cut him short unfazed. „Actually I prefer Philip – in your case, that is.“ He stretched languidly. Thomas looked at him confused. The Duke was obviously joking. Even amongst their kind aristocrats hardly introduced each other by their first name. _As if I’d call you Philip. Ever._ „Come on, let’s go.“ The man nodded conspiratorially towards the stairs that led towards the front door. „This party is so dreadfully dull, I think I will drop dead out of sheer boredom if you don’t save me.“ He chuckled – obviously very entertained by Thomas’s bewilderment.

 

 _Right, hilarious, you spoiled Has-It-All with nothing better to do than to make fun of someone who can’t hit back._ „I have work to do, I’m afraid“, Thomas snapped, „Your Grace. I’d gladly be of assistance, but if I leave this house now, they will send me packing. Without a reference. Which might be as good as play to you. But it surely isn’t to me.“ Ugh, he was clearly walking the line here. Philip lifted his eyebrows, his grin temporarily wiped off his face by Thomas’s snarky reply. „What is your name?“ _Now he’s going to complain about me. Well done, clod._ „Thomas, Your Grace“, the footman replied trying not to sound defeated. „Marvellous“, the Duke declared to his surprise. Accompanied by that disarming smile that made Thomas’s stomach tingle – as well as other body parts. „See you tomorrow then – Thomas“, the man said mysteriously before disappearing swiftly towards the garden. Leaving Thomas staring after him – not so much puzzled than intrigued and annoyed.

 

„Thomas!“, Mr. Carson beckoned after dinner, „Up in my office, please.“ _Yes, go ahead remprimand me for that ‘exceedingly long break’ this afternoon._ Thomas rolled his eyes and had to make an effort to keep his expression and tone of voice stoic – not to betray his dismay. _Ugh, that toad._ Carson had never warmed up to him for what ever reason. But usually he didn’t find cause for complaint in Thomas’s work. „Yes, Mr. Carson?“ Thomas was tired, he felt worn out. Weary of life at just 27. After more than ten years of fighting all by himself in the trenches of the very personal war called his life. „You made quite an impression today.“ Carson remarked. „Uh. Excuse me?“ Thomas was not sure if Carson had suddenly discovered a knack for irony. „The Duke of Crowborough wishes to borrow you for a dinner party at his place tomorrow. One of their footmen is down with some thing or other and he asked if we could spare you. Which in fact we can, as the family has accepted an invitation to Willoughby House and won’t return before midnight.“ Thomas was suddenly wide awake but tried to hide his excitement: „Of course, Mr. Carson.“ The butler nodded gravely. „Very well, Thomas. You will be required from 3 p.m. on – and it might get late. In that case there will be no need for you to return in the dead of night, a bed will be provided for.“


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Duke knows the way and Thomas gets down on his knees.

**Chapter 2 - The next Day, Part 1  
**

 

**Thomas**

_Philip, Duke of Crowborough._ Thomas liked the name. _Thomas and Philip …_ He eyed himself up in the small mirror in his only slightly larger room on the top floor of Grantham House. Thomas took pride in an immaculate appearance and especially so that day. The Duke might have a title, but Thomas would outshine him in looks. Philip's face, the self-satisfied smile, his provocative glance appeared before Thomas's inner eye and a distinctive sensation made his guts (and his crotch) quiver. There had been a glint in the Duke's green eyes that Thomas was very familiar with. He had seen it almost too often for his liking. The curse of being a pretty boy. It meant getting beaten up in the yard as a young lad and being talked to by strangers with unholy intentions. His teenage years in Soho had taught Thomas to discern if a man's interest in him was of a sexual nature or if he was really just asking for directions. The Duke had clearly no need for the latter. He knew the way.

 

**Philip**

Oh, that air of defiance - carefully and skillfully concealed behind a mask of detachment. This distanced expression that betrayed all that went on underneath. And Philip could tell there was going on a lot behind Thomas's withdrawn but exquisitely beautiful face. _Thomas Barrow. I can read you more than you probably like, but I wish I could read you even better._ The footman shifted on his feet and glanced around the salon. Philip was lounging on a grand sofa, legs elegantly crossed, very casually dressed in shirtsleeves and black trousers: „You can go now, Brisby, my regards to your mother. I won't be needing you until tomorrow afternoon.“ he told his butler, who had welcomed Thomas at the front door and then accompanied him upstairs. Philip observed Thomas like an eagle does his prey. Which was exactly what this tasty footman was to him. „Very well, Your Grace“, the butler replied hinting at a bow and left. _Good old Brisby. Ever so forthcoming._ Philip couldn't think of a better butler. It made so much sense to recruit from the same team. There was nothing that could fluster that man about his Lordship's unconventional behavior. Thomas however appeared quite flustered. _You have more than a vague suspicion of what this appointment is going to be all about, haven't you?_ Philip's groin tingled with anticipation. In his imagination he was already peeling those well fitted trousers off the footman's legs … _Did he notice I checked him out? Surely. Don't pretend to be little innocent. Cause I don't buy it one bit. You can't be. A pretty boy like you._

 

„Where is the party?“ Thomas asked coolly. The Duke laughed self-indulgently. „Here“, he gestured graciously around the room. „We are the party. Come closer.“ Thomas didn't move. „I don't understand“, the footman said, his lips seemed redder and fuller than before, his face even whiter in contrast. „Oh, I think you do“, the Duke chuckled. Thomas frowned: „Your Grace. Is this … a prank … because if so – you are the only one who's laughing.“ _Oooh, yes. I knew you would not disappoint._

 

Ever since Philip could remember, the biggest challenge of his existence was the constant struggle with the boredom of a life of someone who had been granted fortune and authority by birth. Only when he reached puberty did he discover the only efficient cure for his ailment: to hunt down, seduce and – favorably – corrupt young and attractive men. Preferably involving a struggle, a fight. Defiant, yet intrinsically vulnerable types (if you managed to find their weak spot - a discipline in which Philip was proud to excel) who dared to mouth off to him were far more intoxicating in his book than getting pissed on dull champagne.  Servants were his favorite prey. Footmen and butlers fascinated him. To see their cool, reserved exterior crumble was Philip's drug of choice. To break down the defenses of those who were so aptly trained to keep them up. Not to let anyone in. Until they would. His dick responded to his musings. „Come here“, he repeated , spreading his legs invitingly.

 

**Thomas**

Thomas closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He knew exactly which way was up. This man was toying with him. He'd get his hands on Thomas. Enjoy him, consume him. Like one of his commodities. And then he'd dispose of him. Without a thank you, a sleazy smirk at most. And should their paths ever cross again he'd not look at him twice, nor remember his name. But so what. The Duke was undoubtedly appealing and offered Thomas a tiny bite of a life that was usually entirely out of his reach. Moreover Thomas had a thing for spoiled shits. Those types were unhealthy and he was well aware of it, but oh so delicious. Thomas was no stranger to the game of crossing certain conventions of class and Philip was not the first nobleman to make advances of the inappropriate kind. But surely the first one who did it with such boldness. Thomas could still walk away. _But why should I? This is more enticing than anything I can remember in a long, long while._ No, he wanted to stay. _Let's play._ He stepped closer. Philip opened his legs a bit wider.

 

Thomas approached the Duke hesitantly who challenged him with a mocking gaze. „Get off that silly jacket, will you,“, Philip grinned, his head thrown back into his neck. „You look like a servant.“ Thomas tried to ignore the sting and obliged but withstood the impulse to walk over to a chair to hang his jacket neatly over the backrest. He let it slide to the floor instead. „On your knees“, Philip summoned as Thomas stood in front of him at last. His voice deep and smooth as if he'd just had a glass of fine, red wine. Slowly Thomas lowered himself down, his eyes holding the Duke's unblinkingly. His brain suddenly a foggy mess, his groin throbbing. „You know, what I want“, the Duke purred. Thomas knew very well, indeed, but seemed to have temporarily forgotten how to open a button fly. His vision got blurry, his cheeks felt as if on fire. The Duke sighed in mock exasperation as if the act was exceedingly beneath him and flipped open the buttons by himself. Then he lifted his butt to push his pants and underpants down. He was hard. And quite well-endowed. „Go ahead“, the Duke nodded towards his erection. Thomas bent forward to lick its whole length from the balls right up to the tip. He circled it with his tongue and then, taking his time, slid his lips over the Duke's cock until he felt him deep hinside his throat. Philip groaned as if in pain. „Look at me“, he rasped.

 

**Philip**

Watching his dick vanish and reappear between those lips, having those steely grey eyes looking up at him turned Philip on as much as the physical sensation. The delicious pressure of Thomas's lips and tongue against his cock. _Oh God, you're crafty._ The Duke struggled. „Ugh!“ Philips hands dug deep into the cushions around him, his pelvis thrusting upwards. If that went on any longer he'd come in a second. _Oh, not so fast not just yet._ „Hold on“, Philip gasped. Thomas hinted at a dirty smirk. _Oh yes, you know fully well what you are doing to this Duke here._ While firmly closing his hand around his cock's base, Thomas yet again teased just the tip of Philip's cock with his tongue. Philip jerked the footman roughly up at his hair and let himself fall back into the sofa. „Get those pants off and come up here“, he moaned. Thomas sat back. „I am not going to get my pants off, Your Grace“, he said, but his thick voice betrayed his words. _You fucking tease._ The Duke bent forward to grip Thomas by the collar to draw him onto him until Thomas was straddling him. Philip's cock grinding against Thomas's balls and dick, just the fabric of his pants between them.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas loses his pants - and his temper.

**Chapter 3**

 

**Thomas**

 

The Duke's pillowy lips seemed to melt into his own. They were soft and full, delicately curved. Thomas sucked on them probed with the tip of his tongue. While gyrating his hips in tune with the Duke's. He attempted to explore his mouth deeper, but the Duke resisted and pulled back with a teasing sneer. With one swift movement he pushed Thomas on his back to settle on top of him and between his legs. His hands closed around Thomas's wrists to pin down his arms behind his head. It aroused Thomas to feel the Duke's weight on him, yet he was yearning to get back on top. Being pinned down like that did conjure up all too vivid memories of getting roughed up and kicked in the stomach by the neighborhood boys many years ago. He struggled. „What?“ Philip lifted his eyebrows. _I' ll never tell you._ Yet Philip let go of Thomas's wrists as if he knew. To tear open his shirt and caress Thomas's hairy chest. _Yes. That's better. Way better …_ Now Philip's hands were in Thomas's hair, his face directly above his. His expression almost tender. _He's beautiful._ Philip flicked his tongue teasingly over Thomas's lips only to part them greedily. Which Thomas allowed only too willingly. The Duke tasted of whiskey and ripe plums. Thomas's grisly childhood memories went up in smoke.

 

Again he pushed his hips up against the Duke's groin for friction who additionally brought his hands into play, expertly probing Thomas's cock. Switching his brain off, turning him into a quivering, sweltering mess. Before he even knew it Thomas had come hard in his pants. He went slack. Strands of hair sticking to his forhead, damp with sweat. „Shit“, he whispered, lifting himself up gingerly. „Told you, you should lose them“, the Duke grinned. Thomas fell back into the cushions. Too spent to keep the Duke from fiddling with the buttons of his trousers. Before he could fully grasp what was happening he was stripped from the waist down. The Duke started kissing the insides of his thighs and even though Thomas had just climaxed he felt a twinge in his guts. He buried his hands in Philip's hair as he was starting to lick the cum off Thomas's cock and balls. Thomas was just about to slide into a comfortable post-coital daze as the Duke lifted his head: „Roll over.“ Thomas flinched. „No.“ The Duke lifted his eyebrows as if he didn't trust his ears. „Roll.Over. It's my turn now.“ „Get off of me“, Thomas retorted. „What?“ Philip stifled a derisive laugh. Then reconsidered. „How much?“

 

 

**Philip**

Oh how asking _that_ question got Philip tripping. It could turn a man into a whore in a heartbeat – corruption complete. It made his brains climax. Philip knew the drill. The initial shock of his counterpart, their face frozen stiff for a second. Dramatic indignation would follow suit. And then, only moments later a sum was suggested. Usually either ridiculously low or absurdly high. Both were always laughed off, of course. Philip never paid for sex. He still got what he wanted, eventually. Philip was seductive and enticing – and he knew it. He had perfected the craft of singling out men who didn't appear vulnerable to the untrained eye, but turned out to be almost unable to resist his kind of advances. Troubled souls, neglected children, victims of abuse. He knew the stories. He used to listen, sometimes. Not to empathize, but to learn more about his most rewarding target group. It never even crossed his mind that his approach might be regarded as cruel. Thinking about what his actions might do to other people had never been on his agenda. It wasn't as if anyone was forced into his arms or had a bad time there, was it? In fact, those men could deem themselves lucky to get their hands on such a fine specimen of man such as him.

 

Thomas shoved him away hard. Philip was so unsuspecting that he almost fell off the couch instead of at least half elegantly landing on his feet. „What … Who do you think you are?!“ he scoffed at Thomas, who pulled up his pants and straightened his shirt. He glared at him, livid, his hair ruffled, cheeks flushed. _There goes your mask._ Philip reveled in his power to get people undone so easily. He really needed this man on his dick now. Mmmm, to subjugate his fury with a rough fuck. „Who do you think _you_ are?“ Thomas shot back and grabbed his livery jacket from the floor. „What are you doing?“. Philip did not believe for one second that Thomas would actually leave. „What does it look like?“ Thomas got hastily into his jacket. „I borrowed you for the rest of the day, you cannot leave“, Philip laughed.

 

Thomas stared at him: „You borrowed me as a footman. And that's what I am. A footman. Not a whore.“ _Oh please._ In the world according to Philip everyone had his price. Himself included. His fortune had been rapidly dwindling for years. But Philip wasn't concerned. Eventually he would whore himself out to a rich heiress. Like that Grantham woman. Lady Mary. She wasn't half bad. Thomas walked briskly towards the door. He wouldn't. Or would he? Thomas gripped the handle and flung the door open. „Wait“, Philip called after him. „What about our outing. The swimming expedition?“ The day was easily as hot as the previous one. Thomas shot round: „I didn't bring a swimsuit.“ The Duke laughed: „Do you even own one?“

 

**Thomas**

 

Thomas's knuckles around the doorknob turned white: „Blast you!“ He was shaking. _How can he get at me like that? Oh stuff that self-satisfied grin. Bloody puppet-master._ Thomas hated to admit to himself that he wanted to be called back. Yet, he knew he had to leave if Philip didn't come around. Properly. Which he probably would not do. His type did not apologize. „I'm sorry“, the Duke said. _What?!_ „Sometimes I'm an ass. I'm a victim to my snobbish upbringing, I guess.“ The Duke's smirk transformed into a disarming smile. Sweet almost. Which did something to Thomas's stomach. Something strange and wonderful. As if someone tickled him on the inside. Thomas's hand slid off the doorknob. „You won't be needing a swimsuit were we are going, anyways“, the Duke declared, pulling up his trousers over his semi-hard on. _Saving up for later ..._ „Where wouldn't we be needing a swimsuit?“ Thomas wondered. Philip flashed him a triumphant smile: „I know a place.“


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas gets a pick from the Duke's wardrobe and sets out with him towards a destination yet unknown.

**Chapter 4**

 

**Philip**

 

„Take what you want. We should be about the same size.“ Philip swung open the doors of his wardrobe. Thomas stepped closer with barely concealed awe. „You want me to dress like a gentleman?“ Thomas asked, appearing almost a bit out of breath. Philip chuckled. _God, those lower class folks could be so amusing. Endearing even in their naivete._ „And who would you be, Master Thomas? The Earl of Barrow“. Philip snickered – he found himself hilarious. Thomas's face clouded over. Philip bit his lip – simply for effect. Not because he felt sorry for making fun of Thomas. He knew he looked cute, when he did this. A dimple would appear in his right cheek. He could barely tear his eyes from his own reflection when he practised this expression in front of the mirror. _Fake demure_ is what he called it by himself. Worked wonders if applied directly after being an ass. It was fun to let the expression of hurt melt away from someone's face just by looking a certain way. Thomas might behave not entirely as Philip had expected on other occasions, but in this case he reacted just like everybody else. His face softened and relaxed. _There you go._

 

„No. You dress as my valet, of course“, he declared as if he'd expected Thomas to read his mind. „There is a lot of black and dark grey stuff in there that should do the trick. Just don't pick a dinner jacket ...“ Thomas shot him a deadly glance. _Alright, tone it down, Philip. Here's a real sensitive one._ He forced the grin from his face, but the corners of his mouth kept twitching. „That's a great pastime you have there“, Thomas commented. „What's that?“ „Making fun of other people at their expense.“ Now it was Thomas's turn to cast an aloof glance before he turned back towards the assortment of exquisitely tailored Savile Row jackets, trousers and shirts.

 

 

**Thomas**

 

He had never ever worn such noble garments before. The footman flicked through them, felt the fabric between his fingers, almost mesmerized. To be able to afford just one of them. Just a single one. Suddenly he felt the Duke's arms embracing him eagerly from behind. His hands sliding across Thomas's stomach, his lips brushing along Thomas's neck: „You will be the most smashing valet I ever had“, he whispered into Thomas's ear and sent a languorous shiver through the footman's body. He turned round on impulse to press his body against Philip's and to meet his lips with his own. _What are you doing?!_ Thomas was startled by his impassioned move. Usually he was the reserved one, having others go at him with urge. Yet this man had a draw on him that was entirely new to Thomas. It was as if his bodily urges had subdued his mind. And his body wanted to have the Duke's close. Very close. Very much. Philip reciprocated the kiss without hesitation. His hands wandering eagerly along Thomas's back, sending chills through his spine. He felt weak on his legs, all of a sudden. A slight buckle of his legs brought him back to his senses with a start. _God, I hope he didn't notice._ The heat of embarrassement crept up his cheeks. Getting weak in the knees was nothing Thomas was keen on in general. And having someone witness it even less so. Flustered he turned back towards the wardrobe and drew out a black suit. „That should do“, he said taking care to sound cool and decisive.

 

Just as Philip had predicted Thomas looked outright smashing in the Duke's suit. He didn't care so much about outshining Philip anymore rather than wanting to look so good that the Duke could not tear away his eyes from him even if he wanted. „You look dashing“, the Duke said, his face beaming with a bright smile „Absolutely dashing“. _You can keep that smile_ , Thomas thought. _And send your trademark arrogant smirk to hell._

 

„So, where are you from? Where do your parents live?“ the Duke asked as they sat in the carriage, destination yet unknown to Thomas. „A surprise“, the Duke had simply said, when Thomas had inquired. He couldn't get rid of the impression that Philip was constantly laughing at him. As if everything about him was slightly ridiculous. As if he was some dim-witted pretty face who was just invited to the party because he was unintentionally entertaining. By being totally out of his depth. _I'm not slow in the head just because I don't talk posh._ „From a village you wouldn't know and whose name you would have forgotten right after I told you.“ Philip sighed: „Stop being so defensive. It is no fun. And besides: I want to get to know you.“ Thomas shifted uncomfortably in his seat. „You don't like to talk about your pedigree?“ the Duke insisted. _My pedigree._ Thomas snorted. And turned his face towards the window to his right not to let the Duke read him any further. He liked to believe he was self-confident, but this man played him like a fiddle.

 

„No need to be ashamed of a humble upbringing.“ The Duke commented casually. _Oh yes, that's rich out of the mouth of a Duke._ „What would you know about it?“ Thomas mumbled more to himself. „And I am not … ashamed of who I am. Nor where I am coming from.“ „You just weren't very happy back then and do not want to look back, right?“ Thomas looked at him again. Big mistake. The Duke's face had turned serious, an unexpected warmth emanating from his eyes that caught Thomas off-guard. He couldn't hold the Duke's gaze and knew instantly that whatever he did Philip would draw his conclusions. _Just stop doing this, please,_ Thomas was not used to talk about himself. And surely not keen to talk about _those_ things. _You can have my body. But bloomin' stay away from my soul._

 

**Philip**

 

Which was exactly, what Philip did not intend to do. The Duke smiled to himself. _Not so sure underneath, are we?_ A pouting Thomas was endearing yet not very entertaining in the long run. „You'll be swept off your feet by the place“, Philip said to calm the waves. Reluctantly Thomas turned to face him again. „It is maybe my favorite spot on earth“, and even if it sounded like a charming lie out of his mouth, Philip meant what he said. And he cursed that hint of melancholy tugging at his heart. Philip disliked to be reminded that he actually had a heart. Life was way easier without it. Thomas looked at him questioningly. Philip hesitated, then shrugged. _Why not tell him?_ „I used to go there a lot when I was younger. My Grandmother's holiday retreat ...“ his voice trailed off. _Enough._ He created a beaming smile out of nowhere that seemed to startle Thomas. „Anyways – it is beautiful and you will love it.“ Philip had never taken any of his flings here before. Perhaps because none of them had ever voiced the desire to go for a swim. This would be the last summer he'd be able to spend time there as the proprietor of the place. That tug at is heart again. „Come here“ Philip murmured and took hold of Thomas's arm to draw him closer. „I want to kiss you some more.“


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A secret garden turns Thomas soft and Philip makes him hard.

**Chapter 5**

 

**Thomas**

 

After a kiss that may have taken a mere minute or an entire hour (Thomas couldn't tell) the carriage came to a halt. Philip drew aside the window curtains. „Here we are.“ He flung open the door and gestured for Thomas to step outside first. They were out in the country. The air was bristling with the sounds of crickets and birds, shimmering with heat. Thomas found himself in front of an iron gate surrounded by a wall that was too high to discover anything that lay hidden beyond. He heard Philip leave the carriage behind him to walk up to him across the gravel. The Duke's breath caressed Thomas's neck: „Welcome to my secret garden“, he whispered. The floor seemed to shift under Thomas's feet. The Duke chuckled.

 

„You can go to the village now“, Thomas heard him say to the coachman. „Be back tomorrow morning, 7 o' clock sharp“, he instructed. „Tomorrow morning?!“ Thomas blurted out, as the carriage got under way. „Shshshshs“, made the Duke and put his index finger against Thomas's lips. „Come on“, he smiled with child-like anticipation on his face and pushed open the heavy door with a creak.

 

And Thomas stepped into this other world of willow trees, wildflowers and outgrown grass. The gentle sound of leaves rustled by the summer breeze tickling his ears. In the distance along the ingrown road that led from the gate a building of light sandstone was barely recognizable. Thomas just stood and stared. Taking in the sounds, the smells, the peacefulness. _I want the world around us turn to dust. And stay here forever._

 

 

**Philip**

 

Philip marveled at Thomas's reaction to the place. His expression turning all tender, dazed almost. All defenses down, unselfconscious like a child. Where he usually felt the urge to tease, Philip just stood still and watched him. Silently. Mesmerized. What was it like to experience all of this through the eyes of someone who encountered it for the very first time? This overgrown, enchanted place. Philip wouldn't reveal what this here truly meant to him to anyone. Truth was he barely came here, not because he lacked people who wanted to go skinny dipping. But because this space got at him. It made him soft, just like Thomas. Philip didn't like to be gotten at. He prefered to get at others. He didn't like to be soft. For an instant he doubted his idea of having come here. With _him_. _What tomfoolery. What a silly undertaking._

 

„'Tis … beautiful“. Just those two words out of Thomas's mouth were enough to put an end to Philip's anxious musings. _It is. Don't be a wimp. Go roll with it. A day like this won't come again soon. If ever. Size it._ Thomas looked at him and the smile on his face, the slight glow on his cheeks made Philip go all warm inside. He could not remember when that had happened last. He laughed at the footman: „I told you, you'd love it.“ It made him giddy like a little boy that Thomas seemed to share his appreciation for the place. „Let's go swimming, I am melting.“ He pulled off his jacket and started running down a path to their right that disappeared into the wilderness.

 

**Thomas**

 

Thomas set after him, peeling his own jacket off while trying to keep up with the Duke. Not even a minute later the trees gave way to a small clearing where Philip was waiting for him, already tugging at the buttons of his shirt. When Thomas reached him more out of breath that he'd like to admit he saw it: The pond. Surrounded by a thin stretch of grass, which had been cut down enough to lie on it comfortably, Willow trees that dipped their branches into the bluegreen water and some large sandstones that had been put there for effect. And to be jumped off, apparently. Philip was stark naked by now and had climbed onto the largest rock. He looked more athletic than Thomas would have expected. This was obviously a man who liked to spend time on the move, outdoors. Thomas pictured him on a horse, all fancy in riding clothes and boots. He looked fine naked. Damn fine. Philip naked, standing on the rock, the sun on his skin, laughing at Thomas unabashedly. Thomas didn't need a photographer to capture that image. It had already imprinted itself onto his brain.

 

With a splash the Duke headed into the water and vanished from Thomas's sight. He hurried onto the rock to see Philip resurface, his hair sticking tightly to his head. „Come on in!“ he shouted at him, beaming. „God, it's marvellous.“ Thomas stepped out of his clothes and wished he looked as fit as the Duke. But all he did to keep in shape was chipping wood, playing cricket and smoking way too much. I'm still good, he decided looking himself down, while feeling Philip's eyes sweep across his bare skin. „Come in! What are you waiting for. I want to plunge your silly head.“ Thomas hesitated. „How … how deep is it?“ He felt the heat of embarrassement rise to his cheeks. It wasn't as if he couldn't keep himself from drowning. He could – just about. By paddling like a dog and looking ridiculous. Of course Philip would take the piss out of him. „You can't swim?!“ the Duke blurted out as if this was entirely unheard of. „I can!“ Thomas defended himself. „Just not … very well.“

 

„Let me save you then. I give a dashing kiss of life. I promise“, Philip laughed and Thomas couldn't but follow suit. _Don't be a coward. You'll manage._ He jumped from the rock, just like Philip had done head first and hoped he didn't splash in on his stomach like a whale. The delicious cool of the water embraced him and dispersed his worries. He resurfaced right at Philips side. His feet treading for the ground – and finding it. _Thank God._ It was shallow enough to keep his head above the water without being forced to make a fool of himself. The Duke drew him close and started kissing him. Thomas felt Philip's erection against his thigh and his own cock responding instantaneously. He pulled back: „What if … someone sees us.“ Philip grinned: „No one will see us. This is the safest place on earth.“ He sounded so convincing that Thomas didn't question any further. The feel of Philip's hand cupping his balls and stroking his cock made him not give a hoot about anything anymore, anyways . For what it was worth he wouldn't have cared if half of London had stood around the pond looking on. All that counted was Philip - and the delicious things he did to him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas and Philip swim, wrestle and touch each other - a lot.

**Chapter 6**

 

**Philip**

 

They stood in the water up to their necks and Philip held Thomas's gaze as he worked his dick. Thomas's eyes flickered, Philip could revel without end in how he had a man in his hands, literally, when he did just the right things to his cock. Thomas gripped Philip's shoulders as he got at him harder. His breath went quicker, his fingers dug deeper into Philip's skin. Philip smirked, let go abruptly of Thomas and unexpectedly plunged his head under water. Startled and spluttering Thomas resurfaced. Philip burst into fits of laughter that made his stomach hurt. Thomas lashed out at him, furious. Philip swiftly did the crawl towards the middle of the pond to escape Thomas's less than amicable advances.

 

**Thomas**

 

 _Oh that cunt!_ Thomas wanted to scream profanities at Philip. But they got stuck up in his throat. The man was a Duke after all. Thomas hadn't even called him Philip so far. Enraged he set after Philip who was still cackling uncontrollably from a few yards away. To wipe the blasted guffaw from his face with a punch. Lacking swimming skills Thomas attempted to run through the water. But he lost his footing as the bottom of the pond dropped suddenly and Thomas went underwater yet again. As he resurfaced, paddling wildly, Philip's fitful laughter stung in his ears. Thomas wanted to strangle him. But the Duke was too far away in the deep water and too swift to escape anyways should Thomas ever reach him. _Just you wait!_

 

Beat – at least for the time being - Thomas retreated and waded back towards the shore. „Aw, come on!“ Philip shouted after him. Thomas's throat felt tight. _I'll pay you back. I don't know yet how, but I will._ „Oh, please! Don't be such a spoilsport. Come back in“, cooed the Duke. Thomas ignored him. He walked back ashore, swiped the water from his body with his hands and ,still seething, sat down on the large sandstone to dry in the sun.

 

Philip swum up to him, beaming. _I want to see your face when the joke is on you, bastard._ He climbed up the rock, eyeing Thomas warily as if he knew what he was in for. Before he had reached him, Thomas swiftly got back to his feet and pushed the Duke roughly off the rock. Philip tried to get hold of Thomas to take him with him. But his wet hands slipped off Thomas's arm and he tumbled backwards into the water. Ha! Thomas snickered contentedly. But the Duke did not recognize defeat. He swum around the rock, rushed ashore and made a beeline for Thomas who was too surprised to prepare himself properly for the assault. Philip overthrew him and both men toppled violently onto the sunburnt grass.

 

**Philip**

 

Philip doubted Thomas would be a match for him. He was already at an advantage having landed on top of him and his wrestling game was good. He'd taken care to get a lot of experience in public school, by starting a fight whenever he possibly could. It had been the best way to get up close and personal with other boys without anyone suspecting anything. _Oh to feel a body struggle underneath, to subdue an adversary._ Thomas was way too furious to grapple with reason – and still too respectful to actually punch Philip. Who went along a little with Thomas's attempts to get him off of him just for the mere deliciousness of it. To feel his muscles contract beneath his skin, have him buckle to no avail, to hear him pant. Finally though, Philip pinned him down decisively and attempted to kiss him. „Fuck you“. Thomas turned his face away. Philip chuckled: „You're hard.“ And so was he. Yet despite of his arousal there was hurt on Thomas's face. Philip knew he'd go at him right away as soon as he'd let go of him. „Be nice“, Philip grinned. Again Thomas buckled, Philip could sense Thomas's helpless desperation – and the fury about it. And it turned him on. Yet he knew he was treading delicate grounds and he knew better not to push him any further. So he rolled off of Thomas, and onto his back into the grass, his arms spread wide: „Go ahead, take revenge.“

 

**Thomas**

 

Thomas was too upset to play along. He felt too defeated. He came up slowly to a sitting position, resting his arms on his knees. „Don't do this again“, Thomas said quietly, not looking at Philip who had come to rest comfortably on his side, one arm bent, his head resting on his hand. „Come on, don't be so damn sensitive.“ Thomas turned to Philip: „I said: Don't do this again.“ Philip sat up: „Alright, I'll let you win next time. That's better for your self-confidence?“ Thomas snorted. There seemed to be no way for him to get at Philip, yet Philip managed to get at him without fail. Y _ou and your innate entitlement._ Thomas envied it almost painfully, yet knew it was entirely out of his reach. Just as he would never come even remotely close to any of the other privileges that Philip enjoyed just because of his birth. _What must life be like in his shoes._ _Oh to experience it, even for just one day._ Philip sat up, still barely concealed mischief on his face. _Don't push me any further, just don't._ Thomas recoiled inwardly. But to his surprise Philip snuggled close to him smoothly. To let his hands travel affectionately along Thomas's arms and back. „Don't be mad with me.“ He kissed Thomas's shoulder and cast him a look so demure that Thomas couldn't but grin against his will. „I hate you“, he whispered. „I know“, said the Duke and pulled Thomas on top of him.

 

**Philip**

Feeling Thomas relax, his chest heaving into his own, his heart beating against his made the Duke strangely light-headed. Thomas let his head fall against his shoulder. They just lay for a moment or two until it became too intimate, too intense and Philip rolled to the side so that Thomas slid off of him. He withstood the temptation to get on top of him again and instead came to rest on his side to face Thomas who had taken on the same position. His body was even whiter than his face, Philip could tell he barely got out of his livery during the day, let alone into the sun. The pale skin, the delicate features, the prominent cheekbones. Thomas was easier on the eye than anyone else the Duke had ever met before.

 

„What are you looking at?“ Thomas grumbled. _Still upset, are we?_ Philip let his hand trail along Thomas's arm. „You.“, he said, locking eyes with Thomas. His features were so exquisite, as long as he didn't open his mouth he could easily pass as a picture-perfect aristocrat. „You are beautiful“, Philip said, not so much paying a compliment than stating a fact. Thomas didn't even blink. _He's heard it before. God, those lips._ Philip bent foward to kiss Thomas who forgot to resist. He rolled on his back, allowing Philip to explore his mouth with his tongue and his chest and stomach with bold fingertips, just stopping short before touching his stirring cock. Philip himself had gone hard again already. Thomas's proximity, the mere thought of fucking this gorgeous man conjured up this reaction. But Thomas wouldn't let him have his way with him easily. Which made him all the more desirable. He'd have him, Philip was sure of that. Just when exactly remained to be seen.

 

He brushed his fingertips along the trail of dark hair that drew a line between Thomas's bellybutton and his crotch, then let his lips brush along the exact same way. Thomas struggled and gasped, his cock fully erect by now. Carefully Philip positioned himself between his legs, to open them wider and let his tongue travel along their insides. To and fro, slowly, always only just reaching Thomas's groin. The footman's hands twitched towards his dick. But Philip smacked them aside. „Hands off“, he growled playfully. A delicate whimper slipped out of Thomas's mouth. _Beg me._ „You want me to touch you?“ Philip teased. „Yes“, Thomas gasped. The Duke let his fingertips brush along Thomas's balls, then closed his hand firmly around his cock. Thomas buckled. Philip withdrew yet again. Thomas made a sound of frustration. „You want me to touch you?“, the Duke probed once more, brushing Thomas's urgent hands aside anew. „Yes“, Thomas almost whimpered. _Beg me._ Philip took hold of Thomas's dick to stroke him roughly while sucking his balls into his mouth. Thomas winced and the Duke retreated again.

Thomas's dick started leaking. „You want me to make you come?“ „Yes.“ Thomas was visibly trembling, his hands clawing the grass. „Please“. To hear the word out of Thomas's mouth already almost made Philip climax. _Ugh, I want to fuck you so bad._ But they weren't there just yet. „Say it again and I'll do it“, he rasped. „Hnnngh“, Thomas pushed his hips upwards, his eyes fluttering, his face glowing. „Please.“ And then – at last - Philip gave in to release Thomas from his agony. Just a few moments of ferocious stroking were enough to make Thomas come violently. He shot his load in several spurts, covering his stomach and Philip's hand. Before he fell back into the dry grass, spent and limp like a doll. Philip reveled in Thomas's face – all undone, his eyes closed. He seemed to be elsewhere entirely. His lips were slightly parted, sweat glistened on his forehead and upper lip. To Philip's amazement he wasn't in a hurry to have Thomas reciprocate the pleasure. Feasting his eyes on him in this state was too delicious to be wasted. _There is no rush._


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas and the Duke walk up a hill and talk about sex.

**Thomas**

 

When Thomas opened his eyes again, he looked straight at the Duke, who was just pulling up his pants, watching him with a smile on his face. Thomas couldn't but smile back. Slowly, still a bit drowsy, he got on his feet as well. Philip drew him close to give him a peck on the lips. „Get your things, let's go“, he nodded towards where Thomas assumed the mansion was located. Just like Philip he just put on his trousers and carried his shoes and remaining clothes in his left arm as he followed him along a path. The afternoon was about to give way to a sultry evening, the crickets were still clittering, the silky air was caressing Thomas's bare chest. _Oh the rare pleasure of just being outside with hardly any clothes on._ He relished in the sight of the Duke's bare back, his muscles moving as he strolled along the path in front of him, letting his free hand playfully brush over the long, dry grass that grew left and right.

 

Instead of ending in front of the main house, the path led the men to a small cottage. The simple stone house was surrounded by an array of deciduous trees, their leaves shining brightly in all shades of green. The walls were made of rough greyish-beige rocks, shutters painted in light blue were offering a delightful contrast. The dwelling reminded Thomas curiously of a dozing animal. And a very friendly one at that, which had just been waiting for their arrival. The place was well tended, the grass had been neatly cut around it. In two large terracotta pots left and right of the front door sunflowers were flourishing. This truly was another world.

 

Philip produced a large key from a hidden niche in the wall of the cottage and unlocked the door. Thomas was strangely struck to witness the Duke conducting this simple task. It was so rare to him to see upper class folks taking care of everyday duties all by themselves that he was almost surprised they were still able to perform them without any assistance. Pouring tea, opening doors, packing and carrying things, even getting dressed. They had borrowed hands for everything. Thomas smiled at his absurd musings. Without his fancy clothes on, his servants around nor his posh manor as backdrop, Philip seemed so normal. Underneath it all he was just a man. Like Thomas himself. _We are not_ that _different._ „Be my guest“, Philip gestured for Thomas to get inside. He found himself in one large pleasantly cool room that was kitchen, dining room and lounge in one. Someone obviously had foreseen their arrival. Everything was neat and tidy. Fresh flowers in a vase graced the sturdy table, alongside which stood a large basket, covered with a linen towel. On one of the chairs lay a thick, neatly folded blanket.

 

Philip threw his clothes carelessly onto an armchair in front of the fireplace and Thomas had to fight the impulse to clean them up behind him and fold them properly. The sight of crumpled garments gave him a start. A year ago he had begun to fill in as a valet whenever the Granthams had guests who were in need of one. He welcomed the opportunity to get prepared to succeed Lord Grantham's current man. Thomas was sick and tired of being a footman. Philip tucked the linen cloth off of the basket and inspected its contents. Thomas stepped up behind him, let his arms travel around the Duke's waist and put his chin on his shoulder to have a peek as well: There was wine, champagne, a large water pouch, fresh fruit, bread, air dried ham, plates, cutlery, glasses neatly packed up.

 

Still barefoot and just wearing pants they set out again, each man holding one handle of the oversized basket, the blanket lying on top of it. Thomas wondered giddily which discovery lay ahead this time. The Duke just smiled to himself as they strolled across the meadow that stretched out behind the cottage. He seemed carefree and content, as if he was already picturing their next destination in his head. Everything appeared so perfectly right and in tune, that Thomas almost didn't dare to break the silence. But his curiosity got the better of him: „Who lives here?“ The Duke's smile dimmed, he appeared almost annoyed by the question: „No one“, he replied so tersely that Thomas refrained from enquiring any further. But after a short while of contemplation the Duke said: „Everything is locked up and covered in the main house since my grandmother died a few years ago. There is just a gardener who looks after the premises. He's not here today.“

 

„He set up the cottage?“ Philip shrugged indifferently. „Guess so. At least I let him know that I wanted to have it prepared properly for today. I don't care who does what as long as I get the results I want.“ He looked straight ahead again and Thomas assumed the conversation on the subject to be over. They passed a few more trees and found themseves at the beginning of a small hill. „You can see the sunset from up there“, Philip said as they started the ascent. „And the whole estate in fact. Let's move on“, he grinned. „I'm starving.“ Thomas wasn't. He didn't miss anything, felt no yearning whatsoever. There was no other place on earth he'd rather be than right here with Philip.

 

Philip hadn't promised too much. From the top of the hill one could oversee the entire estate. The sandstone manor gleaming in the late afternoon sun, the pond sparkling as if covered with gold, the surrounding woods and meadows, and their tiny cottage nestled in between. Philip spread out the blanket and again Thomas was strangely affected by the Duke performing this lowly task. They stretched out on it, the basket at their side, letting the sun and just the hint of a breeze sweep across their naked chests. Thomas lay, his hands crossed behind his head, his eyes closed. Philip lounged beside him and let his hand travel along Thomas's stomach, around his bellybutton, up to his chest, around his nipples, now and then planting kisses here and there. _Not starving anymore, huh? At least not for food ..._

 

„Have you even ever done it before?“ „Huh?“ Thomas squinted at the Duke. „Have you ever let anyone … you know, bugger you?“ Thomas furrowed his brow. „Because, you know …“ Philip planted another tender kiss on Thomas's breastbone , „I'd really like to do it to you.“ Thomas flinched. „What? Here?!“ The top of the hill was visible even from afar. Philip chuckled: „No, clod. Of course not here. Even though I doubt anyone would see. At least not after dark.“ He looked at Thomas curiously. „Come on, spit it out.“ Thomas squirmed on the inside. „Why is it important?“ The Duke rolled his eyes but his smile was amicable: „Because, my darling, we'd go about things accordingly.“ _My darling._ Thomas cleared his throat. „It doesn't matter. Because …“ Philip looked at him expectantly: „Because?“ Casually his fingers trailed along the area just above the waistband of Thomas's trousers. Thomas drew in his breath with a hissing sound. „Because … it won't happen anyways.“ Philip frowned: „Why ever not?“ „I'm not into it“, Thomas snapped. Philips hand wandered below Thomas's waistline to feel him up through the fabric of his pants „Then why does the talk about it make you hard?“

 

Thomas smacked Philip's had aside and sat up, his back turned towards the other man. He was lying. He _was_ turned on by the idea. But he was also scared. The few times he had allowed someone to do _that_ to him it had almost always hurt. Mainly though because his counterpart had never cared much about making it comfortable for him. Once - long ago - someone had even tried to force himself upon him. Unsuccessfully, thank God. It had never resulted out of affection. Thomas had never felt real affection for anyone so far, anyways. Sexual attraction, yes. Still, the buggering part had most of the times been just a deal. A service in exchange for a place to stay, and yes sometimes money, too. Thomas always tried to not regard what he had done as whoring himself out, but as simply doing what was needed simply to survive. All the same the mere memory made him cringe. Philip offering him money had really twisted the knife in the wound. Thomas prayed he would not bring up the subject again. He was weary of getting angry with him. Luckily Philip on his part seemed to be weary of upsetting Thomas. Tenderly the Duke kissed his shoulders: „Well … should you change your mind …“ he murmured, „I promise I'll go easy on you. I've never had any complaints.“


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip opens up a bit then fucks up a lot.

**Chapter 8**

 

**Philip**

A sudden discomfort took hold of Philip. An unpleasant inkling that his romancing was maybe not staged entirely. This goddamn place cracked open his armor, infused warmth into his heart almost by force. _Enough already_.

 

Of course none of his conquests had ever complained. But not because he had lacked to provide cause for it. Philip had quite a thing for rough fucks, for going at his prey mercilessly. To make them whimper not so much with lust but with pain. Some of the folks did enjoy those ways, granted. The rest didn't speak up not because they were ultimately fine with it. But because Philip was a Duke. Simple as that. And Philip was well aware of that.

 

It wasn't as if he really gave much of a hoot about how things were for Thomas either. _Right? Go easy on him? My ass._ All Philip wanted was to get his dick into the man. Yet if being balmy got him there, fine. Thomas would barely reconsider as soon as they were at it. Start like a wimp, finish like a champ. Philip longed to take him hard, hear him wince. All this wussy business was not his style. And who was Thomas after all, to deserve special treatment?

 

Even the sun starting to descend in bright orange in front of them angered Philip. It was too beautiful. The sky was gleaming with strands of purple and rose and yellow as if nature was mocking him, telling him to stop fighting his feelings for this man at his side. Philip peeked over his shoulder at Thomas out of the corner of his eye. He lay on his back again, resting on his underarms, lifting his upper body up to observe the sun's spectacle on the horizon. _Don't say anything about the bloody sky, will you._ Philip's natural impulse was to start a fight to release his tension. But for a reason he failed being able to explain to himself, he resisted the temptation. Thomas was clearly enjoying this moment. It would be child's play to spoil it.

 

Philip reclined beside Thomas who smiled at him and Philip was struck yet again by how approachable he had become. The defiance was gone, the impervious detachment. Thomas was letting him in and the revelation made Philip strangely queasy. „What's the story of this place? Why do you make such a mystery of it?“ Thomas's question caught Philip entirely by surprise. „Am I?“ he retorted. Thomas nodded slowly. „No need to be ashamed of a privileged upbringing.“ It took the Duke a moment to realize that Thomas was mocking what he himself had said during their conversation in the carriage. „I'm not ...“, he stopped. _I don't owe you any explanation._ „It doesn't appear as if you were unhappy around here in the past, so what's the problem?“ _Right. You are quick to learn, turn the tables._ _Unmask my weak point._ _Well done._

 

„Exactly that.“ Philip flinched. He had not intended to think out loud. _Too late. Might as well go for it now. Let him in a bit, might work wonders concerning his willingness to go where I want to have him._ Ulterior motives were acceptable to justify opening up to a degree. „Exactly that is the problem.“ „Meaning?“ Thomas probed. „Meaning …“, Philip almost had to push the words past his lips, „ ... those times were so good, that … it is hard to accept that they are gone forever.“ _Wow. Good God, Really?! Did I just say that?_ An alarmed jolt went through him and quickened his pulse. „I wish I had memories like that“, Thomas said. _Be careful, what you wish for._ If it were up to Philip he'd rather do without them. „Where you in love with someone back then?“ Philip barely trusted his ears. _Good God, spare me. You are not going all smarmy now, are you?!_

 

 _Being in love._ „I don't even know what that means“, he sneered. Which was not the truth, but not exactly a lie either. What was love, really? Missing someone so much that you wanted to die when they were not around anymore? If so, then yes, Philip had been in love before. Once. Innocently. With his older brother. Who he had lost suddenly at age twelve. Forever. Just like that. Dead. Killed by the flu. Philip had stopped eating for days hoping he might starve to death, so very much did he yearn to follow his brother. To be able to be with him again. If that was love, Philip would gladly do without it for the rest of his life. And to date he'd been successful in his venture. In fact he'd been so intent on not feeling deeply for another person again ever that he'd assumed he'd lost the capability to do so entirely. And irretrievably. He'd spent the best days of his life with Peter. Here. At their grandmother's place. Who had allowed them to roam wild and free.

 

„Do you have no happy memories at all?“ Philip tried to call the attention back to Thomas. Who wouldn't have any of it. „I'd rather talk about you“, he insisted. _Whyever did I think that would work. Better stop mistaking him for a fool._ „Whatever for?“ Philip tried to sound bored. Thomas grinned, again quoting the Duke: „I'd like to get to know you.“ „There's no reason for that“, Philip brushed him off. „After tomorrow we won't see each other again, why waste time on useless chatter.“ For the fraction of a second Thomas's face fell. He had regained his composure in a heart beat, but his initial reaction had not eluded Philip's eyes. He had clearly seen it: the pain of rejection. Not the disappointment of evaporated hope to decoy a steady lover to live off of. Philip had seen the latter numerous times. Not that it fazed him. He was out for his gain, and so were others. Fair. It secretly amused him to fool these people into believing he had a lot of money to spare. Naturally he didn't rub it in that he really wasn't that wealthy anymore. Not that he would ever be poor. It was more a matter of drinking expensive wine instead of very expensive wine and owning just four first class Polo Ponies instead of ten. But so far Philip was not ready yet to lower his standards and therefore this place here had to go, amongst other possessions. And as much as Philip was sad about it, he was also glad about it. Let bygones be bygones. Maybe giving it away would also do away with his sentimental memories at last.

 

Too late did Philip grasp that he had spoiled the moment after all. And probably all else as well. Thomas's face was withdrawn, his gaze lost in the distance, as if he had temporarily abandoned his body. _You were really falling for me?!_ Philip cursed the sting of regret. The tug at his heart. All of a sudden and to his own dismay he was anxious to mend what he had broken.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Duke finally has his way with Thomas. Yet not quite the way he thought he would.

  **Thomas**

 

Yes, Thomas's heart had cracked a little at Philip's words. But he could barely be pissed at the Duke for failing to fall head over heels in love with him. _You knew he was a player. You thought you were one, too. Wrong. It was you, who broke the rules. Blame yourself._ It still hurt.

Thomas was not angry with Philip. He'd just stated the obvious. _Better to keep it real than to suck me in with sweet-talk._ In a way Thomas was almost grateful for his harsh words. Almost.

He was however taken aback by how Philip's comment had torn him out of the dream like state he'd been in since they had passed the gate to the estate. It forced the inconvenience of reality upon his consciousness with a vengeance. As if getting cruelly interrupted from being thouroughly immersed in a novel. Thomas would have loved to remain in that blissful oblivion a little longer. A state in which the outside world was nonexistent. This dreary world that outlawed sex between men, and limited peoples' freedom by a strict and arbitrary class system. Even if romance between men were acceptable, romance between upper and lower class still wouldn't be. So why should Philip get involved, right? And why indeed should Thomas? _Because your head has no say in the matter …_

Thomas longed to crawl back into the cocoon of temporary ignorance. He didn't want to waste the little time that was left at this wonderful place by feeling sorry for himself.

 

The sun was dipping into the earth in blazing red. Thomas turned towards Philip who was eyeing him with a hint of unease while appearing lost in thoughts. _I still wish you'd fall for me. Would be nice to know what that feels like for once …_ „Let's have a drink“, Philip suggested and crawled towards the basket. _Yes. Let's get pissed and forget this shitty world and the fact that no one will ever give a shit about me. Let's drown all the fucking sorrows in …_ „Chateau Margaux 1902“, Philip declared, holding one of the wine bottles in his hands caressing the label with his thumb. He produced two goblets from the basket and uncorked the bottle.

Thomas tried to appear unimpressed. Chateau Margaux was one of France's most exclusive wineries. A bottle cost easily twice as much as his entire monthly wage. And more – depending on vintage. He had caught on a bit of knowledge about wine from Carson. Might come in handy at some point. In the long run Thomas aspired to become a butler. Not because he deemed it an overly thrilling career. But the only half decent position that appeared to be within his reach. And one which would include him being able to give other people orders, for a change.

Philip poured two glasses and handed one to Thomas, winking: “This is one fine red wine“. „I know“, Thomas said and drew a breath from it, then swirled it slowly around in the goblet. „It should breathe a bit, I guess“, Philip mused, „But what the heck. Let's not have this go to waste. Cheers.“ He raised his glass towards Thomas who put his against Philip's with a deep, resonating „clunnnng“. Philip took a sip and smacked his lips in appreciation. Thomas followed suit. Dark cherry and elderberries, a hint of blackcurrant. A smooth wave of warmth rolled through his throat and down into his stomach. He felt instantly better. _Take what you can get. Be here now. Regret later._ He took another generous sip. _A bit more of this and I am in for anything …_

 

The taste of wine on his tongue mingled with the taste of Philip's mouth. He fell onto him. Now it was Thomas's turn to hold him down at the wrists. „You got me“, Philip chuckled. „Have your way with me, go on.“ Thomas intensified his grip. „With pleasure“, he growled, then straddled Philip's thighs and scratched his fingertips across his bare chest. Marking property. „Suck me“, Philip moaned. Thomas looked up: „Beg me.“ Wryly Philip raised his eyebrows. „You learn quickly, Master Thomas“. Thomas repositioned himself directly on Philip's crotch and started to grind subtly against his erection. Philip drew a sharp breath. „What's the word, Philip?“ A warm and fuzzy feeling went through Thomas's guts. _Philip._ It felt good to say his name. „Philip.“ He said again. To savour the word on his tongue. Just like the wine.

 

„I'd really like to do it to you.“ Thomas enjoyed throwing the Duke's own words back at him. Philip laughed. „Not going to happen.“ „Scared?“ Thomas challenged. For the first time ever since they met he felt on a par with the Duke. The barriers of class vanished, it was intoxicating, even more so than the wine. „No. Because I am the Duke and you are the servant.“ Flooded with endorphines and alcohol Thomas remained unfazed. He laughed: „Oh yes, go ahead pull rank.“ He bent over and whispered close to Philip's face: „Stuff that. You are no better than I am. And I won't let you do anything to me that you won't let me do to you.“ He smiled: „Besides – you might enjoy it.“ Without the wine he'd probably never have dared. But so what. It felt great to roll with the illusion of being empowered and in charge.

 

„Stop fooling around and get my cock in your mouth“, Philip snarled. „Please.“ This didn't quite have the ring to it that Thomas would have wanted. „You are not exactly experienced in saying that word“, he remarked. „And you are not going to teach me“. Now Philip sounded a tad irritated. _Did I manage to piss you off?_ Thomas smiled to himself and reached over to his glass to empty it in one go. That wine was really strong. Especially on an empty stomach. _Carry me away, wash away my sorrows._ Darkness was setting in. Just a few last burgundy veins were traversing the blackness of the nocturnal sky.

 

Philip overturned him with one of his expert wrestling moves. _Let him, whatever._ _It is all good._ Thomas closed his eyes and let Philip peel his trousers off of his legs. He heard him fumble for something in the basket. Philip's lips close to his ear: „Turn round, get on all fours.“ _Whatever._ Thomas complied. Philip's hands on his buttocks, gripping them, kneading them, spreading them apart. His tongue probing the tender skin in between. _Oh yes. Good._ Philip's tongue circling him, delving into him. Thomas squirmed with pleasure. _Keep. Doing. This._ Philip withdrew for a moment, only to return to probe some more. This time with his fingers, slick with something greasy. „Relax“, Philip murmured. And Thomas did. To let one of Philip's fingers slowly slide into him. This was not painful for a change, but felt actually – good. Thomas got down on his underarms and buried his head in his hands.

 Philip added yet another finger. Then continued to move them in and out until Thomas's hips started moving all by themselves. There was actually pleasure in this! He couldn't help but make some noise. „Alright“, Philip rasped and slipped out of him. He spread Thomas's buttocks wide to push his cock gradually into him. „Easy!“, Thomas gasped. More as a precaution. What Philip had been doing so far was fine with him. His cock advancing into him wasn't uncomfartable. Somewhat challenging, yes, but in a way that made his own dick even harder. „Going easy on you already, darling.“ Philip panted, penetrating further until, at last, Thomas felt the whole length of his cock inside of him. Philip kissed his neck. „Get down on your stomach. Lie down.“ Philip's hands traveled along Thomas's sides with abandon. Decisive but tender. No one had ever touched Thomas like this.

 

 

**Philip**

 

Thomas's skin felt silky under Philip's hands. He was surprised he'd notice – in that situation. Thomas's tightness gripping his cock firmly. Thomas lowered himself down as requested and Philip began to move in a slow, steady rythm, his stomach and chest melting into Thomas's back, their physical boundaries blurring. It was as if all the desire to be shitty and destructive had been sucked right out of him. _It must be the wine._ It made him mellow and smarmy. _Yes, definitely the wine._ Next time he would take him hard. Not that there would be a next time. But for now he wanted to make love to this man. Not that this had anything to do with real love. _Of course not._ It was Philip's term for not being an asshole while buggering someone for a change.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas is all over the place (on the inside) and receives an unexpected gift.

**Thomas**

 

The noise of the horses' hooves hitting the ground was droning in Thomas's head. He'd hardly closed an eye during the night and now lingered in a state alternating between bouts of euphoria and deep desperation. Philip was slouched against the wall of his side of the carriage and appeared to be sleeping. He'd barely spoken to nor looked at Thomas since they had woken up under a rose-colored early-morning sky.

 

After the sex they had cuddled up wrapped into the large, woolly blanket, skin against skin. They had kissed until Philip had fallen asleep in Thomas's arms. But he just couldn't for the sake of it. Thomas had been way too pumped by the whole experience and simply had crushed so hard his whole system was under emergency rule. Even though he was dead tired there seemed to be no way he could calm down. And even though it was heavenly to feel Philip's arms around him and his body snuggled against his own he was not used to sleep intertwined with another person. Still there was no way Thomas would have given up that position for anything. If being able to be close to Philip meant he would be so knackered the next day he could barely stay on his feet, so be it. Thomas didn't want the night to end. If he'd never be that close to Philip again he'd better savour every little bit of what was left of their precious time together. A little while his eyes roamed the firmament for a shooting star to make a wish. But the sky failed him. Thomas didn't believe in magic anyways.

 

Only when the blackness of the sky turned into a dark blue, did he find some sleep. What seemed to be just minutes later, Philip woke him up by struggling against him to free himself from Thomas's embrace. Thomas's lids felt leaden, dry and scratchy on his tired eyes. Without so much as a word the two men got into their pants. When Thomas attempted to put the wine bottle back into the basket, Philip merely snarled: „What are you doing? Leave everything as is. Let's go.“ Philip nearly stormed away, as if on the run. Thomas almost had to jog to keep up with his fervent stride. In the cabin they half-heartedly cleaned themselves up in silence and got back in their suits. Only to find the carriage already waiting in front of the gate just minutes later.

 

And there they were now - in the carriage on their way back into town. Behaving like strangers. Philip had closed his eyes as soon as the carriage had gotten under way and seemed to have fallen asleep right away. Thomas wanted to snuggle against him. But something in Philip's demeanor made it quite clear that he was not up to it. Not even to an arm around the shoulder or a hand on his thigh. Having to stifle the desire to touch him felt as if someone twisted a dagger in Thomas's stomach. And his heart.

 

 _That was it, then. Better face it._ Thomas rested his forehead against the window. He felt raw, thin-skinned. At the brink of actually crying. Being dead tired, famished and slightly hungover was definitely no help to get one's wits together. The day with Philip easily qualified as the happiest memory of Thomas's life so far. Happy memories. _I wish I had memories like that._ His own words reverberated in his head. _Now you got some. And all they are good for is that you are in agony because they are just that: memories. Good times gone._ He let the tears have their way. Even though he was terrified, Philip would wake up and notice he almost hoped he would. He didn't.

 

When Philip finally woke up again, Thomas had regained his composure and Philip kept staring ahead or out of the window anyways. Only when they had arrived in front of his house did he turn towards Thomas to look at him straight: „The carriage will bring you home.“ Without waiting for a reply he opened the door. Thomas wanted to die. „Wait!“ he exclaimed. Philip cast him a quizzical, almost irritated glance. „I still have my livery at your place. I can't possibly get back to the Granthams without it - and in your suit.“ Philip needed a moment to process: „Oh. Yes. Right.“ „And I … I need to freshen up a bit. I probably look as if ...“ „As if you've been up to exactly what you've been up to?“ Philip grinned. „Come on then.“

 

Thomas buttoned up his livery jacket, while Philip was pouring a glass of whiskey. He took a sip then produced a silver box and a matching lighter from a drawer in the spirits cabinet. „Cigarette?“ The Duke asked into the awkward silence. Thomas hadn't thought of a smoke once ever since he had left his room at Grantham House the previous day. And he still didn't miss it. He shook his head. The mere thought made him nauseous. „You don't smoke?“ „I do … a lot … but not now.“ The Duke smiled for the first time that morning. „Well then … maybe later.“ He stretched out his hand towards Thomas, offering him the case and the lighter. „Here.“ Thomas looked at him puzzled. „Keep these.“ Philip winked. „Something to remember me by“. _I won't need anything to help me do that._ „I can't possibly ...“ „Nonsense! I want you to.“ Decisively Philip stuffed the case and the lighter into the pocket of Thomas's livery jacket. Thomas just glared at Philip, dumbfounded. „Good bye, Thomas“. There was a hint of impatience in Philip's voice. „Yes“, Thomas said, dazed. „Good bye, … Your Grace.“


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip is not thinking of Thomas at all and Thomas receives a letter.

  **Philip**

 

Thomas had barely left when Philip ripped his suit off, almost in a frenzy. Carelessly he let it fall to the floor for his valet to take care of it later. Philip had this mannerism of just leaving clothes whenever and wherever he was not in need of them anymore. Despite being well aware that others might regard this as immature he enjoyed the habit too much to even consider to ever kick it. Whichever rich heiress he'd eventually choose would have to take up with his extravagances. That much he knew for sure.

 

Philip got into his dressing gown and poured himself another glass of whiskey. Instead of knocking it back as intended, he shoved it away and rang for breakfast which appeared swiftly, accompanied by the morning papers. It was nine o'clock and Philip had two hours to kill till Yaxley, his valet, would drop by to have him dolled up for the Polo Club. Disinterestedly Philip flipped through the ironed pages that always tempted him to crumple them up and tear them apart. Especially so this morning.

 

He tried to read, but not a single sentence stuck. Annoyed he balled up the paper and threw it across the room. Better sleep some more. Not a good idea to waltz into the club off-kilter. The Marquess of Carisbrooke would be there and Philip was keen on making an impression. The man was insanely wealthy and intent to have his oldest daughter (and heiress to his fortune) married off to someone of his choosing. _No more drink till noon and better get another hour of sleep to make an impeccable appearance_ , Philip decided after breakfast.

 

He stretched out on the sofa and instantly slid into a fitful sleep that proved to be less than invigorating. After an hour or so he woke up drenched in sweat. Less due to the already sweltering heat outside than a frighteningly realistic nightmare in which his brother Peter had returned from the dead to call Philip off for selling Grandma Charlotte's place.

 

To cool off and regain his senses, Philip took a bath before Yaxley put him into some fancy attire for the polo club. Once there, that blasted Carisbrooke had nothing better to do than to attend ferociously to three whippersnappers rather than paying attention to Philip. During lunch he even chose a seat at the other end of the room. Philip tried to fight the impression he was being purposefully avoided. The Polo match that followed got marked down in Philip's personal annals as his worst ever. He blamed it on the horse and sold it off directly after. Never to be reminded of the disgrace again.

 

 _Better call it a day_ , he decided over drinks and chit chat after and did so in a hurry as he saw the Duke of Ancaster approach. A second degree cousin and the biggest bore that ever was.

 

At home he had Brisby cancel the dinner party at the Lindsey's even though Montagu, the Earl of Lindsey, was always up for playing poker. „Anything else, Your Grace?“ Brisby enquired. „No.“ Brisby hinted at a bow and retreated. „Hold on“, Philip changed his mind. „Yes, Your Grace?“ „What did you make of that borrowed footman?“ Brisby contemplated for a moment. This was not the first time Philip asked him about one of the servants who used to drop by for an afternoon or even an entire night. Usually never to be seen again thereafter. They were on terms that didn't make Brisby so much as blink at Philip's question. „I have not had much opportunity to form a proficient opinion, Your Grace. But he appeared to be quite easy on the eye", he replied with a deadpan face. Philip dismissed the butler with a curt nod.

 

He sat down at his secretaire and lighted a cigar. He wasn't thinking of Thomas. Philip blew smoke rings into the air and watched them dissolve. He still wasn't thinking of Thomas. He got up to stare outside into the gardens. And he surely wasn't missing Thomas. Philip returned to his desk. He sat down to stare some more. Then he got out some laid paper.

 

**Thomas**

 

At about the same time Thomas nicked the first bottle of wine of many more to come from Carson's cabinet. He wanted to forget. He wanted to dispel the desire, the craving for Philip's body that seemed to have overtaken his whole existence.

 

Thomas had busied himself the whole day as best he could and even volunteered to help with tasks that were not his at all. Chipping wood, unloading a carriage with food supplies, mending a broken chair. All the while being so distracted that he failed to hear Carson speak to him twice. „What is the matter with you today, Thomas“, the butler enquired irritated. „Nothing, Mr. Carson“, Thomas replied, „It just got a bit late last night.“ Miss O'Brien cast him an inquisitive side-eye. „Did the Duke of Crowborough wear you out so thoroughly you lost your sense of hearing?“ she whispered at him and Thomas had to turn away to not let her see him blush.

 

For once he had passed up her offer to go for a smoke and even a hand of cards couldn't keep him from lingering in the servants' hall any longer than necessary after dinner. He almost bolted into his room and closed the door shut. To uncork the bottle and empty it while smoking all of the Duke's cigarettes before sliding into a restless sleep.

 

„And one letter for you, Thomas“, Mr. Carson said handing out the mail after breakfast the following morning. Thomas looked at him incredulously. He never received any letters. It must be a mistake, surely. Hesitantly he took the envelope from Carson's outstretched hand, feeling O'Brien's curious glance pierce into him. „Thomas Barrow“ was written on it, clearly distinguishable. He put it in his pocket. _Don't even dare to hope. There is no way …_

 

His hands were trembling as he finally ripped open the envelope during a brief break after luncheon. The letter was short. And not particularly romantic. But Thomas didn't mind.

 

It was signed with a _P_. And that was all that mattered.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't wanna twist your arm, but if you came this far and had a good time I'd be thrilled beyond measure about a comment or a kudo :) 
> 
> If you want to know what Philip's letter said and how the craziness that is Crowbarrow continues proceed to Part II.


	12. Chapter 12

The story continues [here (Part II)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1434067/chapters/3015496).


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